


Hey Little Girl

by totally_loca



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Baby, Canon Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totally_loca/pseuds/totally_loca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13024.html?thread=6274016#t6274016">kink meme</a> propmt:<br/>A member of Les Amis has an affair that ends up with a baby turning up on their doorstep about a year later. Mother dead or split and now the proud father is left going 'buh-buh-baby?!'<br/>Cue Les Amis springing into action.<br/>Bonus if Combeferre is extremely competent at finding baby supplies but is actually abysmal with the kid and it upsets him.<br/>And if the baby loves Jehan, Bahorel or Grantaire best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a lot more Grantaire with a baby than any of the other Amis. 
> 
> Ttitle from [My Little Girl](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLmCjIYlvZI) by Jack Johnson.

Grantaire walked into the back room of the Musain and stopped dead. The first thing that struck him was the noise, the wailing of a very unhappy baby. The second was the sight of the three leaders of their revolution. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were sitting at one of the tables, the rest of Les Amis conspicuously absent, when usually, even an hour or two before the meeting, there would be one or more of the others scattered about. Enjolras was writing diligently, his face pinched, determinedly ignoring the wailing. Courfeyrac was in the centre, lying face first on the table, his hands fisted in his hair, and Combeferre was on his other side rocking a bassinet, his face a picture of distress.

Grantaire smothered a laugh and stepped up to Combeferre, who only noticed him when he stuck his head over the side of the bassinet. The wailing stopped abruptly as the baby focussed on Grantaire’s face

“She doesn’t like me.” The words were said calmly into the sudden silence but Grantaire could detect the mournful undertone to them. 

He glanced up at the other man, “She yours?”

Combeferre shook his head, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his nose wearily. 

The baby let out a whimper which stopped again when Grantaire looked back down at her.

“She’s mine.” Courfeyrac admitted, raising his head to slump back in his chair. “I don’t know what I’m doing!” he wailed. “’Ferre got me supplies and everything but she only stops crying when she’s cried herself to sleep, or when Jehan or Bahorel are holding her.” He paused and glared at Grantaire. “Or apparently when she’s looking at you.”

Grantaire scooped the baby up and cradled her against his shoulder, the others watching cautiously, even Enjolras had looked up from his work to see what was happening. The little girl reached out a tiny hand and touched Grantaire’s crooked nose, a smile on her face. 

“Looks like we’ve got another Courfeyrac fascinated by curious faces.” Combeferre laughed softly, dodging the blow Courfeyrac aimed at him. 

“I bet the women had a field day over Bahorel holding this pretty Miss.” Grantaire ignored the comment about his face and smiled down at the baby, biting playfully at her questing fingers. She let out a gurgle that sounded startling like a giggle.

“They were clamouring around him until Marie got fractious at all the attention.” Courfeyrac grinned, his good humour returning now the crying had stopped.

Grantaire glanced up briefly, “Marie? Is that her name? Pretty.” He looked back down at her to avoid the considering looks the three men were giving him.

Marie got bored of poking at Grantaire’s nose and laid her head on his shoulder letting out a little whimper, her mouth set in a moue of discontent. 

“Do any of you have a clean handkerchief?” he asked. 

Courfeyrac and Enjolras shook their heads but Combeferre pulled out a freshly laundered square of cloth from the satchel at his feet. “Will this do?” 

Grantaire nodded absently, taking it and wandering towards the front room, his attention back on the baby. 

“Um, R? Where are you taking her?” Courfeyrac had half risen out of his chair, panicked at the thought of letting his new found daughter out of his sight. Enjolras had lost interest and gone back to his writing, while Combeferre watched attentively.

“Oh,” Grantaire paused, looking back them. “I was going to ask Mme Hucheloup for a bowl of warm milk. Is it okay that I take her with me?” 

Courfeyrac relaxed and sat back down, nodding. Grantaire smiled and left the room.

He returned ten minutes later, carefully cradling the baby and a bowl full of milk, and took a seat at the table next to the trio. He was humming to the little girl who was still fussing at his shoulder. Courfeyrac and Combeferre watched curiously as he soaked the cloth in the milk before offering it to the baby. She took it easily and re-settled against his shoulder with a sigh, suckling happily. The two men gaped at Grantaire until he caught their eyes, his own twinkling with amusement. 

“Do you not have work for your glorious revolution to be getting on with? Or schoolwork to attend to?” he asked, shifting as he spoke to pull his sketchbook and a pencil out of his pocket. 

Courfeyrac floundered at him until Combeferre nudged him with a murmur about not looking a gift horse in the mouth and they set about using the blessed silence wisely. 

 

When the rest of Les Amis arrived later that evening the five of them were in pretty much the same positions. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were animatedly discussing their plans while Grantaire sketched steadily, little Marie fast asleep against his heart, a still full bottle of wine on the table. 

Bahorel let out a loud guffaw at the sight, dropping into the seat next to the artist and passing an impossibly gentle hand down the little girl’s back, but said nothing. The others stood and gaped for a long moment before they all shook their heads and settled in. They all unconsciously echoed Combeferre’s thought about gift horses; the memory of the previous meeting, the one Grantaire had missed, fresh in their minds. 

Joly settled on Grantaire’s other side and grinned at the beautifully detailed sketch visible on the table. “Is that how they looked when you arrived?” he laughed. 

Grantaire looked up at that and grinned back. “A little exaggerated but close enough.”

Joly threw his head back laughing and then carefully reached for the sketch, “May I?” At Grantaire’s nod he passed it to Bossuet who laughed so hard he fell out of his chair, Feuilly grabbing the paper as he fell. 

Soon bright laughter filled the room as everyone saw the sketch. Only Enjolras tried to maintain a facade of exasperation but even his lips twitched at the clever drawing of the three of them. They all held their breath when the noise woke Marie but when Bahorel took her from Grantaire the little girl just smiled. Everyone released their breath with an audible whoosh.

 

Courfeyrac was almost late for the next meeting, the majority of Les Amis already there, but he’d had a hard time leaving Marie with the nursemaid Combeferre had found him so he just rolled his eyes at Enjolras’ look and pulled a face at Combeferre’s knowing grin. In his place at the table was a rolled up parchment, a tag with his name attached to the string. Curiously he unrolled it and his breath caught. Upon the page was a beautiful oil painting of Marie swaddled in her blankets, a tiny cursive ‘R’ hidden in the folds.


End file.
